


To Talk of Art

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Conversation, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Socially Awkward Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Bond has an insightful conversation with Q





	To Talk of Art

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I first joined the fandom maybe a year or so ago, back when I thought Q was just being pedantic about a painting, rather than using it to dig at Bond's age. Or maybe I still think that. I dunno. Anyway, it sat in my files for a while and then I polished it up and posted it... round about now
> 
> Originally posted here as part of a collection, which I've deleted; if you left kudos or a comment for this fic there, please know I've saved them to look upon and cherish (also, thank you)

“You don’t actually care much for art, do you?”

Bond didn’t bother questioning the jump in conversational topics; Q would switch tracks of thought without notice and gave no time for anyone to bother following. Bond had learned it was simply better to answer as best he could and remind Q that normal human beings didn’t go that fast only when he really couldn’t figure out what Q was on about now.

“That depends on what you consider art.” Bond replied, watching idly as Q disassembled some complicated and tiny device beneath a magnifier, “Gourmet food is considered an art. Classic cars certainly have an art to them. Fashion is an art form, even.”

“That’s true.” Q affirmed, voice still pensive, “Though I meant more along the lines of the classic arts. Painting, sculpture, poetry, that sort of thing.”

“I do enjoy a good book, when I have the time. But I prefer more visceral arts to staring at paint on a canvas.” Bond admitted, “I’ve learned enough about the classics to carry me through any sort of stuffy gallery event I may need to infiltrate, but I don’t really seek it out on my own.”

“Hm.” Q put down his screwdriver and reached for a pair of tweezers, “I find it fascinating.”

It wasn’t a judgement on Bond’s personal tastes, only a statement of opinion. The two were incredibly easy to mix up where Q was involved, but Bond felt that he was learning quickly. “I never would have taken you for an art lover.”

“I don’t know that I would say lover. Enthusiast, perhaps. Classical arts can offer strange and amazing insight on the human mind.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Bond shook his head; his fault, he supposed, for asking a question that didn’t beg further information. When wrapped up in a project, it seemed as though Q forgot the finer points of conversing with another person. Bond changed tracks a bit, attempting to tease a more reactive answer from Q. “I wouldn’t think you were much interested in the human mind, down here.” Bond gestured vaguely to the subterranean lab space, “Not unless you’re trying to replicate it in a machine.”

Q finally looked up from the magnifier, meeting Bond’s eyes quickly and then glancing away. “Unfortunately, there is a great deal more to the world than technology. It would not do well to forget the human element of life.” Q paused, making an aborted sort of shift on his feet before looking back down to the device he’d been methodically pulling apart, “I will admit that the human element is generally what causes me the most trouble. The arts are a much more… tangible way of accessing the human psyche.”

“Understandable.” Bond nodded, although he wasn’t quite sure he was on the same wavelength as Q; understanding people was always as easy as breathing to him, and he found that he couldn’t completely situate himself in the quartermaster’s shoes.

“You were staring so intently at that painting, I thought you must have liked it. Or at least been interested. I thought starting a conversation over it might be a way to ease into acquaintanceship.” Q admitted

It took Bond a moment to realize Q was referring to their first meeting: the discussion Q had attempted to start over  _The Fighting Temeraire_  – that damned old ship. “I was wondering what had compelled my contact to choose it as a drop point. Better than staring at the wall.”

“Ah. I was a bit perplexed as to why you seemed so offended that I was asking your opinion, but there were more pressing matters at the time than forcing a cordial working relationship with someone who didn’t want it.” Q paused, “In any case, our back and forth was somewhat enjoyable.”

The very thought that Q had been attempting to forge- not a friendship, exactly, but some sort of amicable rapport with Bond was amusing in its way, but left Bond with a rather bittersweet impression. He’d hardly been amenable to making new connections when he and Q had met, but his instant dismissal of the man seemed like something of a waste now that he knew better. Still, lamenting the incident in question was only a further waste of time. There was a much more comfortable space between them now.

Comfortable enough that Q felt he could express such thoughts to Bond in the first place.

Before Bond could come up with any kind of answer, if one was even warranted, Q made a soft sound of satisfaction and glanced up at Bond once more. “Hand.” He instructed.

Offering one’s hand to a Q Branch employee was always a gamble—offering one’s hand to Q himself even more so—but Bond complied with curiosity, coming around the work table and stretching out his hand, palm up. With the tweezers, Q gently placed something small and square in the center of Bond’s hand. “Roughly speaking, that is what you will be acquiring on your upcoming mission.” Q informed him, “Not that exactly, obviously, but a chip very similar to it. Squeeze it.”

Cocking an eyebrow at Q, Bond did as the man said and felt the tiny piece of tech crunch to bits as he closed his hand over it. “Fragile thing.” Bond observed, opening his hand view the destruction.

“Incredibly.” Q agreed, “No matter what is going on, you must promise me that once you have that  _fragile thing_  in your hand, you will treat it with the utmost care.”

Bond looked up and found Q’s eyes unerringly, holding the man’s gaze with a seriousness he didn’t usually bring to Q branch briefings. “You have my word.”

Q blinked, brought up short by the sincerity of Bond’s declaration. “Um. Good. Yes.” Q nodded, moving away to grab a small, foam padded case, “You’ll be issued this for transport of the device, of course, so you needn’t worry about crushing it as you make your exit. Just pop it in the case and it will be perfectly safe from most forms of harm.”

“Most?” Bond watched as Q demonstrated how to latch and unlatch the case.

“I like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about you, Bond.” Q glanced up for a moment, “I could make something resistant to impact, water, fire, and shocks, and you would find a way to launch it into space.”

“Now there’s something I haven’t tried yet.” Bond murmured thoughtfully, grinning just a bit at the aggrieved look that briefly crossed Q’s face.

“If you think you’ll ever even be  _near_  the necessary materials–”

“Relax, Q. Do have some faith in me, would you?”

Q gave a short huff, but met Bond’s gaze squarely. “Yes,” He decided after a moment, eyes sparking with something like fondness, “I suppose I’ll have to.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Also posted on Tumblr!](http://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/171563883268/this-was-the-very-first-thing-i-wrote-for-the)


End file.
